Breaking Skye (3 page)

She groaned and tossed her coat and purse down on the antique sea chest in her front hall, kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot across the hardwood floors of her small living room to the bay window overlooking the city.

The apartment was on a hill overlooking the Castro district. This was a beautiful neighborhood—well-kept, safe, and one of the few areas in San Francisco to get the occasional bit of sun.

It was twilight now and the evening fog was rolling in, turning the lights on the streets below her into a glowing wash of color. Wisps of fog threaded its way between the mini-Tudors and remodeled Victorians that lined the streets. Sometimes the San Francisco fog made the city cold and lonely-looking, but she was glad for the sense of solitude it brought now. She had a lot to think about.

Was she getting in over her head? Her whole body gave a long, lovely shiver as she pictured Adam in her mind. He obviously knew exactly what he was doing. She felt so naïve with him, which wasn’t something she was used to. She’d always thought herself to be somewhat sophisticated when it came to sex, which was why she’d even considered approaching such an extreme sexual arena. Yet he didn’t seem to expect anything more from her than the bare-bones of knowledge about the subject.

I’ll be responsible for everything…

Yes, she knew he would be, had an absolute sense of that. How frightening.

How freeing.

She had three days to ponder this, to look over the questionnaire he would send her, to make her final decision. He’d assumed she would come to him—and she had agreed to—but she had to really think things over. To think beyond her response to his sharp, male beauty, his natural air of command. That was the responsible way to handle the situation. The smart way.

Adam.

Her pulse raced, her limbs going warm and weak as she imagined his large, capable hands on her naked skin. They’d be rough. Demanding. Expert in every way, she was certain.

Mmm…yes…

Her body heated as she ran her hands over her thighs, imagined they were
his
hands, her skin lighting up with exquisite, nearly painful need. That’s what he did to her.

Oh, hell, who was she kidding? She’d made her decision the moment she’d seen him walk into the café. She
wanted
this. More specifically, she wanted to do these things with
him
. In fact, if she were going to be perfectly honest with herself, she could hardly wait to see him again.

Three more days. It suddenly seemed like far too long to wait.

* * *

Wednesday and most of Thursday passed quickly enough. She’d taught a few classes, which kept her distracted during the day. The evenings she’d reserved to go over the long questionnaire Adam had sent her.

He was right—there were things on there that had never occurred to her, some of them too scary to contemplate, some of them enticing. Some surprisingly so.

Would she like to play with hot wax? Maybe. She’d always been a little afraid of the burning sensation, but she also imagined there could be a warm sensuality to it. She’d read that it all depended on how hot the wax was allowed to get, and how it was poured onto the skin. That it could be pleasant. Or cruel. Which direction would Adam take it? And what about the ground in between, where pleasure and pain existed side by side? That was what she really wanted to know, to experience.

She shivered, a sensual
frisson
skittering across her skin like a warm current. She forced her focus back to the questionnaire.

Would she like to try caning? She had to pause, leaning back against the pillows she’d plumped up behind her on her pretty white iron bed, her fingers resting on the edge of the laptop balanced on her knees. She just might, if the right man were wielding the cane. If
Adam
were wielding the cane. She was surprised by her own response. Caning had always seemed so extreme. Amazing how her ideas about her own desires could shift given the right motivation.

Adam was spectacular motivation.

Her sex squeezed and she flexed her toes under the edge of the pale, vintage blue and white quilt.

Amazing what he was doing to her already, mind and body.

Would she want to be tied up? Most definitely. Would she allow any sexual contact?

Her mind emptied as she read that last question, her body flooding with desire.

Oh, yes…

They’d talked about it already, but her body was as worked up now as it had been when he’d been sitting only inches from her.

Adam.

She cupped one breast with her hand, rubbing her hardening nipple through the thin cotton of her camisole with her fingertips.

“Oh…”

She set the laptop down on the night table, leaned back into the pillows and closed her eyes. And saw Adam in her mind’s eye, standing over her. Commanding her to touch herself. For
him
.

She spread her thighs, raised her camisole over her breasts, baring them to the cool evening air. She didn’t mind—her skin was on fire as she slid her hands over the gentle curve of her belly, the undersides of her breasts. Her sex was absolutely aching, but she would tease herself a bit. He’d like that.

She circled her nipples with her fingertips, feather touches, tracing the edge of her areolas. Her thighs flexed, wanting to squeeze together, to ease the ache between them, but she forced them wider apart.

“Oh yes, for you,” she murmured.

She took her nipples between her fingers, gave a small squeeze, sighed with pleasure. Did it again, hard enough to hurt.

“Ah!”

Pleasure was an electric current running through her veins. Her clit began a slow, throbbing pulse in response. She squeezed her nipples again, then again, creating a rhythm that kept pace with the pulsing need blooming between her thighs. Harder and harder, and still she needed more. More pleasure. More pain.

More pain.

She was soaking wet. Finally she yanked her bikini panties off and with her legs spread, allowed herself to press one finger at the entrance of her pussy. She was slick with need. She bit her lip as she slipped her finger inside, gasped at the sharp, keening pleasure.

“Oh God, yes,” she murmured.

She tilted her hips and pressed two more fingers into her pussy, began to pump.

She imagined Adam watching her, his hand stroking the bulge of his cock against his slacks, his eyes gleaming. She knew what he would want of her—that it had to be more than her pleasure.

With her other hand she teased the hard nub of her clit. One touch and she had to pull in a breath, commanding herself not to come yet.

For Adam.

She pinched her clitoris between forefinger and thumb, then pinched harder, making it hurt. The pain
was
pleasure—there was little difference as her hips thrust into her own hand. As her fingers drove deeper inside her. She pinched harder still, the pain dizzying, driving the pleasure higher. She let her nails dig into her thigh, but it was all pleasure, the pain simply making everything sharper, more intense.

“May I come? Please?” she asked the empty room, wishing it were
him
.

She made herself hold back for several more moments. Then she pumped herself hard, her fingers surging deep, the other hand pinching her clit, tugging on it. And as she imagined it was his hands on her, doing these things to her, she came. Her body shook, pleasure rolling through her like thunder.

“Oh! Oh…”

Her climax seemed to go on forever, her fingers pressing into her quivering sex. Her hips arched over and over, milking her hand for every last ounce of pleasure. She was still pinching her tight clit, using the pain to keep the edge keen, her orgasm rippling through her.

After, she was breathless, her body buzzing. Her sex still pulsed with need.

“Adam…” she murmured.

But it was just her own hands. Not enough.

Though she did have her toys.

She got up long enough to pull her toy chest—a long, flat metal case—from under her bed. She flipped it open and pulled out a few of her favorite implements: a thick, flesh-toned vibrator made from a firm, ridged rubber, a slender chrome vibe, a pair of nipple clamps, a small bottle of lube. She lined them up on the soft quilt.

Impatiently, she stripped off her clothes and climbed back onto the bed. She got on her hands and knees, then lowered her upper body, resting her shoulder against a pillow, her face pressed into the mattress. She reached for the big vibrator, switched it on, teased her nipples with it for a few moments while sensation reverberated through her.

“Adam, this is for you,” she whispered.

She reached between her thighs and spread her swollen pussy lips with one hand, used the other to drive the big vibe deep into her wet and aching pussy.

She groaned, pumped it in and out, pleasure building again so quickly it made her shake all over. She pushed it deep inside her, left it there while she carefully placed a clamp onto one hard nipple, gasped a little at the flash of pain, took a breath and clamped the other nipple.

God, she loved being clamped. She’d never allowed a man to do this to her. But every cell in her body was screaming for Adam’s touch.

“For you, Sir,” she whispered as she grabbed the slender chrome vibrator, covered it in lube and switched it on.

She shivered as she touched the cool, lubed vibe to her ass. And as she pushed the tip in, she moaned, over and over.

“Oh, God, yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

She pushed the chrome vibrator into her ass and it slipped past the first ring of muscle easily. There was nothing but pleasure, sensation layered on sensation, as the small butt vibe and the larger vibe buried in her pussy shivered together.

Her nipples burned. With pain, with an even deeper pleasure that melded with everything else happening in her body. Desire soared, crested, held her at that keen edge while she panted with it. It was just what she wanted, craved. Total sensation overload.

She shoved the big vibrator deep into her pussy, and came, hard and sudden, her body jerking with a pleasure so intense it nearly hurt.
Did
hurt, because she needed so badly for it to be Adam inside her body. Bringing her pleasure. Bringing her pain.

“Ah, God!”

She collapsed on the bed, slipped the small vibe from her ass, let the big vibrator in her sex carry the remaining waves of her climax through her system. Before it was all over, she slipped one clamp off, cried out at the searing pain as sensation returned to her nipple, then removed the other, gasping, loving the pain. Loving that she felt ‘punished’ by it—for not waiting for Adam, perhaps. She didn’t know. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

Finally she switched off the big vibrator and slipped it from her body. She was trembling, almost in shock from the sheer intensity of it. She pulled the quilt over herself, trying to catch her breath. Yet somehow, she still wasn’t sated.

Apparently orgasm after orgasm couldn’t satisfy. No matter how many toys she used, it would never be enough. She’d known from the moment she’d seen him. She had to feel
his
touch. It had to be him. Nothing else would do. Nothing but his touch, and his absolute command.

Had she really thought of him as ‘Sir’ while she was getting off? Was it possible so much could change so quickly? Or had she simply not recognized the depth of her desires until she met him?

She didn’t like to think he could be right about that, struggled against admitting it, even to herself. Tomorrow night would certainly be illuminating. Beyond exciting. A little scary.

But she was too worn out to think. Too tired to try to come again, despite the hungry wanting of her unsated pussy. And even with need burning so brightly in her system, her eyes closed.

She was still thinking of Adam—the depth of his dusky blue gaze, his broad shoulders, his plush, generous mouth—when she drifted into sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

She woke with that same need trembling like a drumbeat deep in her belly, but she resisted, wanting to save it all for him, to go to him with this almost unbearable desire. A sort of delicious torture. She loved the idea every bit as much as it confused her.

Everything about her response to this man confused her. But what had she expected? She wasn’t so sure now.

She got up and drew her robe on against the morning chill, made her bed, fluffed her pillows. And felt just as confused as ever.

She huffed, sat on the edge of her bed, picked up the phone, and dialed her cousin’s number.

“Hallo, cous!”

Esme’s exaggerated English accent never failed to make her smile. She’d lived in the States with her father since they were in high school, ever since Esme’s mother—Skye’s aunt—had died, and she should have lost most of her accent by now.

“Esme, are you working?”

“Always. But what do you need?”

“How do you know I need anything? I call you all the time.” She rolled a silky tassel from one of her throw pillows between her fingers.

“Because you call me all the time. You sound different.”

“I guess I’m…feeling different.” She paused, gathered her breath. “You remember when you told me about that online personals site, bondage.com?”

“Sure. Do you need help writing an ad?” Esme asked.

“I’ve already placed one.”

“Great! Are you getting hit on by a bunch of old pervs?”

“There’s been a bit of that.”

“But?” her cousin asked, drawing the word out into two syllables.

“But…I’ve also met someone. A Dom. And he’s the real thing.”

Why did it feel so much more real saying it out loud?

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone to his house without giving me his info or I may have to come over there and throttle you.”

“No, of course not,” Skye insisted. “But I did meet him for coffee—and don’t worry—I paid to have a background check run on him before I went.”

“And? You’re far too spare on details, sweets.” She could practically hear Esme pouting on the other end of the line.